


Dirty Play

by marsprince



Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Dirty Thoughts, Fetish, Filthy, Fuckbuddies, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Hormones, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mud, Outdoor Sex, Underage Sex, dirty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 03:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsprince/pseuds/marsprince
Summary: Reggie ruts into Archie in the yard behind his house.





	Dirty Play

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Some weird fetishes. Mud play, and mutual masturbation.

Some days it’s not so much about practice as just getting out of the house, feeling the wind in his hair and channeling all his energy. Archie sometimes teases—Reggie knows it’s just teasing, no matter how annoyed Archie seems—that Reggie turns into a caged dog when the team goes too long without practice. They practice all the time. But it’s been on-and-off rain for the past week and the next game’s not until Friday’s night, which leaves Reggie half-training over the mud of the huge backyard behind his house. When both of his parents left him alone for the week, Reggie’s only thought at the moment was to throw the party of the year. Better than Veronica’s, and specially better than Archie’s… But now he was horny, and had just invited Archie to spend some quality time together, watch some old movie and get his dick sucked by the redhead in the process, so the party planning should wait.

Archie liked this. He likes to have a fuck buddy to come after being rejected by his current girlfriend just for wanting to have sex. Most girls considered fucking or giving blowjobs to be a weekend activity, something to relieve stress every seven days. And even then, sometimes they didn’t even want to get naked over Archie’s mattress and spread their legs open. Reggie on the other hand, was just as horny as Archie every single hour of the day, so what was the problem in having a helping hand from time to time?

When Reggie finally stopped his arm workout, the lights of the back porch were flickering on. Reggie’s breathing hard and sweating through his shirt—he’s been out a few hours more than he meant to. The sky’s taken on the orange-black glow of sunset, and he starts walking slowly towards the house, dragging his gym bag limply behind him. Being on the real world makes him feel human again. It’s a crushing reality, but it’s the shadow he needs to make the light of his next game brighter.

Reggie stops a few meters away when the back door opens, Archie stepping out. He walks to the edge of the deck, safely under the overhang even though the rain stopped a few hours ago. He calls. “Popcorn’s ready...”

Reggie stays where he is. He grabs a bottle of beer from the nearest table and smiles maliciously. It’s his stubborn way of saying ‘come and get me’—it’s how he coaxes his _friend with benefits_ out of the manicured house and into the great outdoors. Archie doesn’t have the heart of a camper. Reggie loves to fuck him anyway.

Archie loves Reggie’s games too… Although maybe ‘ _cares for him’_ is the right choice to use in that sentence. And that’s evident when he sighs and rolls his eyes. And rubs the back of his neck nervously as he looks distastefully down at the ground beyond the wooden deck. Reggie’s parents hired a team of gardeners to give the place some maintenance a few months ago, but what little grass grew was too thoroughly trampled by Reggie and the football team to last. When they come over, they play this land hard. Reggie reaches out a hand and lies, “Come watch the sunset with me.”

Archie’s a pretty smart teenager. He has to know Reggie’s intention, but he makes a show of giving in anyway, stepping off the porch and carefully avoiding the patches of dirt that threaten his white socks from every side. He practically hops towards Reggie, carefully choosing where to step. His trousers are the loose informal ones he uses on weekends when he stays at home watching movies with Jughead, and his thin shirt is too big for him—one of Reggie’s old ones that Archie’s turned into something of a nightshirt and a rag for doing housework in. Reggie pays attention to it because he knows that Archie cares about his clothes and his appearance, or at least, the right clothes. Reggie wouldn’t tackle Archie in designer pants.

But he’d think about it in these, and as soon as Archie’s close enough, Reggie drops the bottle of beer and reaches for Archie’s shirt. The redhead is too used to hand-me-downs, he really deserves a wardrobe of entirely expensive things, but they’re young and not there yet. At least Reggie can tear these. He makes fists in the sides and tugs Archie tightly against him—Archie stumbles up and gasps. With his hands busy holding Archie still, Reggie uses his head to nudge the other boy in to place, to duck in and kiss Archie hard. He can tell that Archie was going to scold him, but the protest gets cut off in the interim.

When Archie breaks the kiss to turn away, Reggie nuzzles into his neck and nearly growls, “You know better than to come to me right after I’m done exercising...” The adrenaline’s still coursing through his veins, and there’s nothing like this. There’re only two things in this world Reggie really cares about—Football and Archie. Combining the two of them is dangerous. He gets high on the overload and can’t come down.

Archie wraps his arms around Reggie’s waist and mumbles softly, “I suppose I wouldn’t minding eating them cold...” The black-haired jock’s hands twist in Archie’s shirt, sensing permission, and Archie sighs, “You’re going to tear it.”

“It’s mine anyway,” Reggie decides, before adding, “I’ll buy you a new one.” A new used shirt. Archie laughs and kisses his forehead.

He reaches for the neckline and jerks at it hard enough to split the seams. He holds onto both sides to keep from choking Archie, though Archie’s tilted his head back and is watching Reggie with heavy-lidded eyes, letting it happen. He knows what Reggie likes. Reggie knows what Archie likes. This isn’t it, but for now, he can’t stop himself. He pulls and the old fabric splits, making a small screeching noise, and from then, it’s ridiculously easy to rip right down the middle. He wants Archie in rags and doesn’t even know why. Maybe it’s because of how confident and perfect he looks most of the time. Reggie splits the shirt in two and brushes the frayed edges aside, revealing Archie’s muscled, pale chest, splattered with freckles and two pink nipples, perking in the cold evening air. Reggie runs his bigger hands up over them. He can feel the oncoming wave of lust and doesn’t counteract it in time.

He shoves Archie backwards. Archie stumbles to the ground, landing on his ass, and Reggie takes just a split second to check if he’s hurt. Then he’s going down too, half slinking to his knees and half lunging on top of his lover. Archie’s hands have already sunk into the mud under him, but they sink deeper when Reggie leans over him, forcing him back. Archie runs from Reggie’s kiss until his skull hits the wet soil and there’s nowhere else to go. Then he turns sideways to look at the dirty puddle he’s landed in, and he winces, face scrunching up. Reggie takes the opportunity to flatten the rest of their bodies together. He crushes his weight down on top of Archie and uses his own knees to shove the redhead’s legs to the ground. He grabs Archie’s wrists and pins them inside the rim of the puddle. Archie whines and arches up, but Reggie presses their mouths together again, stealing Archie’s noises and breath.

Reggie’s a true rider. Archie tries to turn his head, and Reggie goes with it, keeping their kiss going, one little lick and suck and nip after the other, until Archie practically headbutts him and sighs, “You didn’t have to go full on muddy.”

Reggie snorts, “It’s not my fault it rained.” But he appreciates that it did. By now, there’s no way Archie can think this is going anywhere but Reggie getting off; the sizeable bulge in his trousers is grinding into the growing tent in Archie’s. He knows the other teen is hard for him, always is, but this isn’t where Archie will come, and Reggie knows that. Archie sighs again like he’s a saint for indulging such a silly child.

Then he says matter-of-factly, “It’s kinda dirty.”

And Reggie smirks, leaning closer to nuzzle into Archie’s cheek and nip at his jaw. He purrs, “I like you dirty.” He runs his teeth down Archie’s neck, stopping just short of where the brown splatter is creeping into his cropped red hair. Reggie laves his tongue along the shell of Archie’s ear, leaving a thick trail of saliva, and hisses, “You know I like seeing my dates all messed up. You know I love it when they are _filthy_.” Archie’s breath hitches. His hips subtly shift up against Reggie’s, but Reggie’s already driving the ship. He’s grinding Archie down.

Archie’s blushing furiously and breaks out of Reggie’s hold to throw his arms around Reggie’s neck. He buries his face in Reggie’s shoulder—Reggie can feel it burning, feel the cool press of Archie’s sweat, and the tickle of Archie’s hair against his cheek. The raw smell of Archie, the lingering cologne of this morning and the underlying musk, makes Reggie moan. He ruts into Archie like an animal. Suddenly he’s desperate to come, not in their bedroom or even the preferred change rooms of the gym lockers, but right here, in the earth, in the dirt and the muck on the land wet from the rain. Reggie loves the outdoors. He loves Archie more. He wishes he’d thought to take his own shirt off so he could feel Archie bare beneath him. He hisses into Archie’s skin, “Touch me.”

Archie always was a good kid. He _does_ what he’s told. He reaches one hand back over and runs it all the way down Reggie’s chest, taking liberties along the way to squeeze and feel. Reggie doesn’t mind. He knows Archie likes his muscles, likes his athletic build. He reaches Reggie’s trousers and slips inside them, right down to skin. He wraps his long fingers around Reggie’s cock and starts to stroke, dry and rough except for the muddy water clinging to Archie’s hand. Archie kisses his cheek and murmurs with a grin, “I’m going to have to clean you up after, you dirty jerk.”

Reggie tries to chuckle, but it comes out as more of a moan. Archie knows just how to touch him, how to squeeze his shaft with just enough pressure and peel back his foreskin and thumb the slit at the glans. Reggie’s nearly trembling in his arms, still grinding into him. He feels so good. He fits just right. Reggie bites into his neck, he gasps, and Reggie almost snarls. He wants to leave bites all over Archie’s body. He wants Archie to look this debauched all night and tomorrow morning. He finds Archie’s mouth, and they kiss just as fiercely as they first did on their freshman year.

Then Archie’s giving him too much, and Reggie’s scream’s cut off in Archie’s throat. The orgasm rips through him and splatters all over Archie’s hand and the inside of his own pants. Archie keeps dutifully pumping him and caressing his hair with the other hand. Reggie’s in that limbo of ecstasy where he could die right now and be absolutely happy.

Of course, he comes down. Slow and giddy. He shudders and slumps against Archie, aware he’s heavy and sweaty, but he’s tired. Archie just grunts and takes him. When Archie’s hand slips away, Reggie groans, not sure he wants it to go.

He can still feel the bulge at Archie’s crotch. Reggie takes a few seconds, then pushes himself up on his elbows. Archie straightens his hair now covered in mud, painting the sides brown, and mutters, “Fuck, you made a mess of me.”

Reggie grins, pleased and entertained. “Do you want to wash me off?” Archie just laughs—of course he does. He shoves at Reggie’s chest, and Reggie sits up like a good boy.

Then he scoops his lover up in his arms. Archie clutches on to him and insists, “You really owe me one for this... _fantasy_ of yours… You’ll definitely be the one getting fucked next time, Mantle...” Reggie already knows that won’t happen. He’ll come back later to get Archie’s shredded shirt from the mud, probably to jerk off with it later that night, and while he’s out, Archie will have the living room looking pristine again. For now, Reggie carries him across the deck and through the open backdoor, headed straight for the shower, and Archie’s turn.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to Comment and leave Kudos if you liked this!


End file.
